


A Friendly Competition

by Highly_Illogical



Series: Little Spock: The Logic of Cuteness [3]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Childhood, Cute, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 22:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7775884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highly_Illogical/pseuds/Highly_Illogical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock says his first word. Illogic ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friendly Competition

**Author's Note:**

> All characters and settings belong to CBS and Paramount; Vulcan words taken from the [Vulcan Language Dictionary](http://www.starbase-10.de/vld/).

“I must admit I am concerned about Spock’s cognitive development.”

Amanda glanced first at Sarek and then at their young son, fast asleep in his crib and blissfully unaware of his father’s unforgiving assessment. Not for the first time, she thought idly that his tiny pointed ears made him look like a gift from fairies or some other mythical creature of Terran lore.

“What? But he’s so bright! You can already tell he wants to know about everyone and everything.”

“He’s bright for a human child, perhaps. A full Vulcan would have started talking approximately 2.3 months ago.”

She sighed, surrendering before the cold, hard facts as she had done so many times before. Spock’s preferred mode of communication was a mix of disjointed flashes of mental contact whenever either of their faces came within reach of his little hands, fits of crying that Sarek was already beginning to disapprove of (and perhaps rightfully so, but that didn’t stop her heart from clenching when she noticed), and small sounds of delighted curiosity about all the new and interesting things around him, which were only just beginning to coalesce into something resembling syllables, but not quite proper words. Admittedly, it often took quite a stretch of the imagination to understand what he meant, but Amanda had never considered that Spock might be behind schedule in any noticeable way, and though her husband hadn’t said it in so many words, it was painfully clear that he believed it was his human side that was holding him back.

“Give him time. We knew from day one that he would be no ordinary child. He may surprise you yet.”

She silently prayed he could make good on her daring promise someday—it took _a lot_ to surprise him.

 

Under normal circumstances, Sarek was perfectly able to work at a more than acceptable pace without being disrupted by the spikes of emotion seeping through the bond. It would have been different with a Vulcan mate, more skilled at keeping her thoughts to herself, but they had become constant companions to his days and nights, much like a never-ending background music that ebbed and swelled at the whim of a master improviser, and even if the occasional discordant note made itself heard from time to time, his world would have been silent, _too_ silent, without them.

Very few of those erratic stimuli were too strong to ignore, and his finger froze midway to his PADD as one such impression forced its way into his train of thought—a veritable explosion of delight in the back of his mind, followed by an overwhelming desire to share the source of it.

Although it was obviously not out of any immediate distress that she required his presence, his current work had been proceeding more smoothly than anticipated and he estimated that he would not fall behind if he chose to set aside an as yet undetermined amount of time to join her. Perhaps a short break would even provide a fresher perspective later, allowing him to make up for the unscheduled interruption. He left his study to investigate.

Amanda had clearly had a similar idea, and they met halfway; their son was in her arms, and if his inarticulate sounds were any indication, his budding telepathic awareness was being affected by her generally positive mood.

“I won,” she said without preamble, in a tone of voice he could only characterize as smug.

Her point-blank statement was perplexing, but his composure did not slip. She had said more surprising things than that on several occasions, and he sensed – not through the bond, but simply by virtue of knowing her so well – that an explanation of the peculiar logic behind it was forthcoming.

“I was not aware that you had entered any competition. Before I offer my congratulations, may I inquire about its nature?”

A chuckle escaped her restraint at that, and the child responded with a gleeful shriek of his own. He made a mental note to ask her to redouble her efforts, at least when they were in direct physical contact, as he clearly could not withstand her onslaught of emotion at his tender age, but he found himself unwilling to spoil her current disposition.

“Spock called me ‘Mama’, loud and clear.”

“Pardon me, my wife, but how does that constitute winning?”

“Weren’t you wondering in what language his first word would be? ‘Mama’ is obviously not Vulcan, so I won.”

“I seem to have lost a contest in which I did not know I was a competitor,” he answered, pondering the new brand of illogic of her odd metaphor. He supposed he would have been declared the ‘winner’ with just as much playful solemnity if Spock’s first fully formed word had been in Vuhlkansu.

The situation would have to be… not corrected, exactly, but _helped_. Being bilingual was, by all means, a virtue rather than a flaw, and could in fact be exactly what his growing brain needed to compensate for his perceived slowness, but his progress in both languages would have to be monitored and guided with great care. For all the value his native planet’s society placed on the principle of IDIC, developing a discernible accent would not help their hybrid son on the way to acceptance. Amanda would no doubt chide him for thinking so far ahead, but the tentative beginnings of a lesson plan were already forming in the recesses of his mind.

“I guess you didn’t stand a chance. ‘Mama’ is so much easier to say than ‘ko-mekh’.”

“Then,” he said, deliberately indulging her and knowing full well that she, in turn, was aware of it, “the terms of your competition were hardly fair.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, my heavens! Did I just switch POVs? And use a whopping two words of actual Vulcan? I must be insane...  
> I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
